


“singles awareness day”

by Florilege_mov



Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, LGBTQ Themes, Light Smut, M/M, Valentine’s Day, mention of smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22191550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florilege_mov/pseuds/Florilege_mov
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and what kind of husband would you be if you didn’t encourage the money-thirsty, capitalist parade float of a holiday and get your sweet little daisy something to celebrate?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	“singles awareness day”

It’s late in the California afternoon on February 14th, and you’ve finally given into the holiday you used to despise oh so much. You’re recalling all the dumb things you used to tell yourself as an excuse to not feel desperately lonely on V-Day, and you have to hold back laughter because you can’t believe you were one of those “singles awareness” kids. High school you would be disgusted knowing you’d been making out with your husband on the kitchen floor like in all those movies a mere 30 minutes ago. 

Not to say that your life was like a movie, because that’d be one fucked up movie and would probably get uploaded on one of those snuff websites for emotionally detached middle schoolers to ogle at with their stoner friends at unspeakable times at night. You didn’t have much room to talk though, you were one of those emotionally detached middle schoolers. All you’re saying is that your romance with Fennec could be passed as a low-down, 34 minute indie film or a fanfiction you’d read on Wattpad at the age of 11 while hoping; “oh god I want Rob Lowe to kiss me.”

At the moment, you’re laid all up in bed, waiting for Fennec to finish his extensive (and expensive) skincare routine. Not that you mind, no, not at all. You love that he’s taking good care of himself in comparison to years ago when he couldn’t even brush his teeth without a little push of encouragement from you. You love that he believes in himself now, and you love that he’d learned that from you. 

You notice you’re spacing out but you don’t try to stop yourself, eyes half lidded and staring blankly at the western wall as Fennec’s alternative pop playlist acts as white noise for your mind to take in for free stimulation. Y’know, you never really noticed how often your mind drifts back to the thought of Fennec. Even this- right now- is an example of how it always does, and you find that interesting. Damn, does he always take up this much of your brain? You think, if you had a pie chart of things you think about, Fennec would be somewhere around 42%, work would be at 28%, dumb fucking tweets you saw that made you giggle would be a good 14%, and embarrassing childhood memories would be 10%. The rest would be dumb shit you couldn’t really care about, besides the good 5% of sex. 

Anyway, you think, back to Fennec. That sweet little smile of him and his tooth gap which you specifically fucking remember him accidentally whistling through during your first kiss, shortly followed by an intense fit on laughter from both of you. Good times, very good times. Oh, and the first tile you held his hand after a month of dating, just because he was so jumpy and scared of affection- but when he initiated it, you absolutely melted and tried to ignore the feeling of impending worry that you were pressuring him. You weren’t, you discovered later, he was just nervous. 

His hair was always so fluffy, so, so fluffy. Like one of those comfortable ass blankets you’d always get for Christmas- and in that way, he reminded you even more of the good part of your childhood. And to even get yourself started on that body of his. Literally who gave him the fucking right? There were two different parts of your brain constantly battling over whether to pepper butterfly kisses all over his chest and hold him tight like your baby blanket or to just absolutely slam your dick into him for hours and hours on end like the horny teenager that you both know you are. Most of the time you went with the kisses, though. You like the way his cheeks light up when you brush against a ticklish spot and he giggles.

You are 28 and you cannot believe you still think like this. 

There’s a knocking somewhere in the room and for a moment you think it’s just your brain overloading with Fennec, but then you realize that it is actually your husband knocking on the opened door to the bathroom to get your attention. You take a moment to remember English and then respond. 

“He’s finished! Hallelujah!” You make sure your tone is sweet and soft, just to see his face morph into something you can’t really describe without squealing like a little girl. He laughs softly, tying a bow into the rope around the waist of his baby pink bathrobe, leaning on the doorframe leading out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. You’re reminded of why you married this angel.

“Yeah yeah,” his voice is tiny and happy and it makes you swoon again, a sappy grin crossing your lips as you just don’t care anymore. “I was thinking, maybe we could finish off this wonderful V-Day with something special?”

Oh right. 

It’s Valentine’s Day. 

Jeez, you almost forgot about all the flowers and love letters and the custom vinyl you’d gotten him earlier! And his new $90 paint set! And the entire coffee date you guys went on, which ended with you spilling your grande mocha frappucino, triple shot all over yourself. 

“And what might that be?” You tried to sound sarcastic, but you were honestly oblivious. You aren’t sure what Fennec expected from you, knowing you can’t read social cues even if they were on big poster board, held by the pope and being held at gunpoint. Your eyelashes flutter as you watch Fennec shrug the robe partially off his shoulders. That shouldn’t turn you on. There’s nothing remotely sexual about that unless you made it sexual. 

“Oh, nothing,” he snickers and his small hands move up to his waist where the bow is tied, and you’re almost enthralled enough in his movements to not notice when he unties it and lets it fall onto the floor. “Nothing all too important at least.” 

You hear the seduction in his voice and you’re absolutely fucked.


End file.
